Ten More Minutes
by Ink-Stained Wings
Summary: Vampire meets girl, girl has story, the fun begins.
1. Discovery and a Girl

**Prologue:**

I don't know why I've decided to write my story down. Maybe it's because I'm tired of hiding in the shadows; tired of living in secrecy, but where are my manners? My name is Nezkith de Kertyl and I am a vampire. Go ahead and laugh, most people do. They don't know, and I don't expect you any of you to understand either, what it's like. I was born this way, but I wish I wasn't. Enough whining though, I'm starting to annoy myself.

Now, before we get too ahead of ourselves, maybe I should dispel any myths about my kind. We _can_ walk out into the sun, despite what movies say. We don't burst into flame or run around shrieking, but the sun does drain us of energy. It's like being extremely tired but you can't seem to get to sleep. As for garlic and crosses, well, I'm fond of both. I happpen to wear a cross wherever I go and nothing is better than fresh baked garlic bread, still steaming from the oven. Oh, and silver? Don't make me laugh. The cross I mentioned is made of solid silver. I got it the day I turned sixteen in my vampiric life.

Anyways, I think that covers everything...I for those of you who want to know what I look like, just incase we bump into each other somewhere down a dark alley. Heh, that would make for an interesting evening. Back on topic, though. I'm roughly six feet tall and, depending on the weather, I have faded blue eyes. To top off my appearance (no pun intended), I have grayish brown hair. I wear sunglasses most of the time, not because of the sun, but they tend to make me look like a normal human. Now that we've got that out of the way, on to my tale. It all began with me stepping into a little diner run by a vampire, and best friend, Sam...~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Chapter One: Discovery and A Girl**

It was around midnight when I stepped into that little diner. The smell of coffee, probably cold, and human blood washed over me as I sat down at the bar. the weight of the previous day hit me all at once. Sam, the cook and owner, walked up to me and leaned over, resting his elbows on the counter top.

"Nezzy, m'boy, what's bothrin' ya t'day?" he asked in his rugged and heavily Scotish accented voice. "Don' tell me ya havin' fed t'day?"

"Me, not feed?" I chuckled. "Never gonna happen. I'm just tired from tonight's performance." I sighed and ran my hand through my hair.

Sam just shook his head. "Still a strugglin' musician, huh? Why don' ya jus' use yer _influences_ to get yerself ahead in the game, eh? It would be easier for ya and a hell of a lot less tiring. Or, ya could continue with the police business. That seems to be workin' for ya."

"Yeah, maybe...I don't," I leaned back in my seat. "I just don't want to take the easy way out...Besides, being a cop is boring the bloody hell out of me. The same ol' humdrum every night..." I suddenly felt a sense of tension and nervousness coming from a booth behind me. "Sam, could you get me a cup of the usual?"

He chortled and went to the back. I turned around to see where the feelings were coming from and there she was. The girl who made me question everything I am and start writing this book. But there she sat, with her slightly curled brown hair and beautiful hazel eyes, staring outside, her head against the window pane. I knw I should've just left things alone, but I couldn't. I got up and carried myself over to her booth and sat down across from her. She glanced at me and then continued to gaze out into the night.

"Leave me alone," she sighed. "I just want to be by myself..." As she spoke her breath fogged the window.

"I don't mean to pry, but I can tell something is bothering you," I replied. Sam walked by and placed my cup down on the table. "Thanks, Sam." I turned back to her as I took a sip. "As an officer of the law, it is my duty to know of any wrong doings. Now tell me, what has got you so upset?"

She angled her head towards me and sighed again. "You wouldn't understand. You'd probably think I'm crazy."I couldn't help but let out a small laugh. I set my cup back on the table and rest my head in my hand. "Well, how 'bout we start of slow then. My name is Nezkith de Kertyl. And you are?"

"I'm...Eryika Tallon, she replied, lifting her head from the window. As she did, the first thing that was noticeable was her fragility. Not just her normal _human_ fragility, but more of an aura that was something familiar to me , but seemed beyond my reach. And for me that's saying alot.

"Erica, why would anyone be so glum on such a glorious day, or in this case, night?" I just had to ask her.

"It's Eryika, pronounced ear-ee-kha. Not Erica," she said wearily, as though she were tired of explaining the pronunciation of her gorgeous name to simple idiots like me. as she turned, I also noticed her skin, pale as milk, creamy as whipping cream, but there were also hideous scars that she didn't even try to hide. It was as though she were tired of trying to be something she could never be again, at least in her mind's eye.

Did I also mention I have the uncanny ability to just know what people think of themselves? I can't read minds, no, but more along the lines of reading your body language. Hers simply said she didn't care anymore; that she just wanted to give up on everything. The more I observed her, the more I almost felt a kindred spirit to her. As though she were my female counterpart that I hadn't seen in more tan 500 years. Not my companion, but a part of myself that I had given up because the human emotions took more time to emote than I felt were really necessary, so I mainly stuck to my own kind. A tragic story, but more on that later. Perhaps if I do decide to tell you about _her_, you may need a box of tissues to keep your eyes eyes dry. But, I digress forward in time, I turned to the young lady. And she is a lady indeed. She has the breeding of an aristocratic family. I find myself staring at her and look down at my drink, the wine staining the sides of the glass.

"I don't know why," she said, leaning back in her seat, "but I feel as if I can trust you. I'm...I'm running away. I can't take my home life anymore. Everyone, no, everything is turning to shit. I need to get away from it all."

I looked back up to her with a puzzled expression. "Things can't be all that bad, can they?" I down my cup and signal to Sam to bring me another cup. "Besides, take a look at yourself. You're beautiful; you should be on top of the world."

She glared at me from across the table. "_Beautiful_!? take a look at me!" she pointed to the scars on her face. "Every time I look in the mirror, I see what I am, a freak!" She dropped her gave. "I can't stand being a..." She cut short as Sam walked up with another cup and removed the old one. As he walked back to the counter, Eryika sighed once more and went back to looking out the window. "You wouldn't understand..."

I gently grabbed my cup and brought it to my lips. "C'mon, try me. I've been around the block a few times..." I had to stop and laugh at myself, "...a few too many times."

She leaned on the table and took a deep breath. "Where to begin?"

"How 'bout the beginning?" I couldn't help it.

She smiled sarcastically at him. "Dick. I was born into a high class family, an aristocratic one, if you will, and thought everything was perfect. We had everything you could imagine. The stereotypical farm in the countryside, the mansion set back into the woods; we had it all. A picture perfect family is what you would have seen if you were there. Like I said, it was perfect."

Again I let my mouth run. "Three times now, m'dear."

"You know what? You can just go to hell then. Here I am, trying to get something off my chest and you're being a total ass about it," she fumed, crossing her arms.

"I'm sorry. I promise not to interrupt again." I raised up my first three fingers. "Scout's honor."

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Mkay! First chapter up! My gramer kinda sucks, but hey, I'm doing the best I can.

I hope you enjoy it! Please send me some reviews!


	2. More to Her Story?

**Yay!! Second part up! Sweet!**

**Oh and just to let you know, I do own these characters! **

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She eyed him warily. "Next time, I'm walking out." She placed her hands on the table and continued her tale. "Everything was perfect until I turned eleven. I started to notice small things. Some how I knew I wasn't like my father; I didn't look a thing like him." She let out a small laugh. "I'm going to need a drink before I continue. It's a long story."

As if he knew what she were thinking, Sam was there by the table with a glass of tea. "Thanks. Now where was I?"

"Something 'bout your father," I replied casually, taking another drink from my own cup. I couldn't' take my eyes off her as she spoke. I watched her lips move, the words pouring from them like sweet honey; her voice like a chorus of angels singing the dawn to life.

"Right," she said. "I mean, I didn't think much about me being different. I just thought I took after my mom," she explained while taking a sip of her tea. "I mean, c'mon, how many eleven year olds take the time to ask why they look like one parent and not the other?" She sighed. "But I did and things started to get ugly from then on." She took another drink. "I learned that just shortly after my parents got married, my mother had an affair with one of our neighbors. Sad thing is, I knew him growing up, too. He was always coming over to see how my mother was doing and my father knew it. It broke his heart , too, when he learned that I wasn't his, but he still raised me like his own."

"Seems like a nice guy to me," I said, still tantalized by her voice.

"I loved him and he will always be my father to me. We were always close and when my mother died, we grew closer. I still remember that day. Father said it was an accident; that the hay in the barn was too dry caught fire while she was feeding the horses and it spread too quickly for her to get out." She paused to clear her throat of the sadness that was building in it.

"She always loved it out there," she explained. "My father may have been wealthy, but my mother came from a lower class family. Anyways, after she died, he always waited on me, hand and foot, and doted on me; telling me how proud of me he was and that I was his whole world." She wiped a tear away and smiled, looking up into my eyes. "But I could tell he was hurting every time he looked at me and I know he never forgave my mother, even after the fire took her away, for her infidelity."

I set my cup down and looked back into her pain filled eyes. Tears were streaming down her face, smearing her eyeliner. "I am so sorry..." I whispered, reaching up to wipe her tears away. It was then she noticed the color of my skin and cringed away from my touch.

"Don't touch me, " she hissed. "You're one of them. You're just like the man that fathered me. Are you as cruel as he is? Do you play little torturous games with your victims as he does? Do you rip out their throats and then throw them in the river when you no longer have use for them?" How do I know all this? Well, let me tell you of the atrocities I discovered after my mother died. The man that fathered me would come and ask Father if he could spend time with me. To get to know one another, he said. Being in the position that Father was in he very well couldn't refuse the man, knowing that he was my legitimate father. At first I was excited to be going anywhere away from the farm that Father had sequestered us to for the mourning period of my mother. Then I tried to look for reasons not to go. The man terrified me. The only promise that he kept was that if I didn't wish to see him again after getting to know him, he would never insinuate himself back into my life."

I had to interrupt. "Look here, I'm just being a kind, patient soul who offered some company to a lovely young woman, who seems to be traveling alone in parts that aren't safe to do so. And you accuse me of...what exactly? Being a monster of some kind. I do hope you're only being overly dramatic because of exhaustion, my dear girl." I let my own anger flare. "_I_ am the law in this dangerous area and _I_ see to it that no one is harmed during my nighttime watch. If you still believe me to be some kind of monster that your 'father' has led you to believe all of my kind are, then take a sip of my wine." I slid the cup over to her, a few drops sloshing out onto the table. "It's the very color of blood, but it isn't what you think. Granted, it's an acquired taste; one that I'm quite fond of."

"I...I...I am so sorry, sire," she sputtered at my intendancy of being called a monster by the likes of her. Of course she now knew that she could refuse me almost nothing. She reached for my proffered cup of local wine just to be polite. She took a small sip of the very substance that was almost too bitter to drink. Coughing, she returned my cup to the table."Very nice," she said and then dissolved into a fit of laughter at the blatant lie. I myself had to smile.

"Okay," I said. "Now that you know what I am and that I'm really what I seem to be, please, finish your story. I've only a few hours left until the end of my shift and it's been a long evening."

Eryika looked simply astounded. Astounded that I would still want to listen to her after her rude tirade. But, as I had pointed out, she was exhausted and she really wanted to tell someone her amazing story."I may have said that I trusted you before, but now I do," she said with a sigh. Taking a drink from her tea to get the unwanted taste of my wine off her tongue, she rested her arms on the table. "The truth is, I haven't been honest with you. Remember how I told you that my mother died in the barn with the horses? She did die in the barn and it was on fire, but it wasn't an accident. Someone had found out who my biological father was; more importantly, what he was. They set the barn on fire because it was me they thought was in there playing and feeding the horses."

Her tone then turned somewhat harsh. "The abomination spawn of a human woman and vampire. My mother didn't die when I was eleven, but only a few months ago. By the way, I just turned , I think the only thing that wasn't a lie was that my father was an aristocrat, but he wasn't a loving, doting father. However, my mother _was_ his whole world. He forgave her for everyone of her indiscretions except one; because of me."

I stopped her before she could finish. "If you were lying before, how can I know you're telling the truth right now?"

She glared at me. "Because I am. Do you want me to tell you the truth, or shall I pay for my drink and leave so you can find me later, stuffed in a garbage bin with several limbs missing?"

"I seriously doubt that would happen," I mused, "but continue. I'm dying to know what happens next."

"Then shut up and listen," she growled. "My father was at a complete loss when Mother died. He blamed me for being alive; he blamed me for the reason she was dead. Everything I thought I had was gone." She paused to take another drink from her glass. "Oh, and the part about the offer to spend time with my real father, it wasn't an offer. I was banished from Father's estate forever. Cut off without a dime. I thought that maybe my biological father might be able to help me because, after all, we are blood related. So I showed up at his doorstep asking for a place to stay."

"Let me guess, he welcomed you with open arms and a bleeding heart?" Damn me and my mouth. Betrayed again by carelessness and quick thinking.

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**Well, there you go! I'll try to have more up by tomorrow, but no promises!**

**PLEASE LEAVE ME REVIEW! DON'T BE STINGY LIKE ERIYKA'S STEP-DADDY!**


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